


Nebula, Cargo

by bowblade



Series: Thirteen Effect [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowblade/pseuds/bowblade
Summary: The Shadow Broker searches for a suitable candidate for a task she cannot allow of just any of her agents. A young turian in a Cabal cell just might be the one.
Relationships: Noel Kreiss & Paddra Nsu-Yeul
Series: Thirteen Effect [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/718743
Kudos: 1





	Nebula, Cargo

**Author's Note:**

> It seems this is my annual post Nanowrimo tradition now... anyway! Written partly to warm down from Nano itself and take a break from that, and also to finally have this written... I've had a lot of Thoughts and notes about this first meeting story for a while now, okay. 
> 
> Takes place roughly in tandem with _Comet, Impact_.

It wasn't part of their remit, but Noel was different from the others.

It was a wonder he had not been stripped of rank status and sent back home weeks out of bootcamp, his military service to the Hierarchy rather short lived. But he was invaluable and _good_ at his work, and his cell knew it – strong biotic prowess was a shared trait between them, but he adapted fast and kept his cool under pressure despite his distinguished youth, was intuitive and smart, a perfect up-and-comer for the Cabal and what his cell until now had been missing, but… 

Where the others undertook their duty with calculated, cold precision, Noel cared. He cared too much, really. Sure he would do what was asked of him, what was required, but his involvement in a task would not end there. He would see what was left behind or passed by, not allowing himself to be blind, not able to prevent himself from doing something to assist and change their course, even if it were just a conversation to address the hurt to innocents they might have indirectly caused. 

It was not a flaw, but it was a fault with regard to being a saboteur. Reconnaissance and attachment were not designed to go together.

The few incidents with ignored protocol had not been enough to have him shipped out. The Hiearchy clearly believed the problem could be… corrected. Stamped out. To serve the Hierarchy with his Cabal was a path charted out for him, and his overall performance and work ethic indicated he was not against such a placement. 

He was young. He had changed already from the boy he had been. He would change again. 

Over time, Noel fell in to line.

Despite what they thought, they couldn't cure him of it.

He just got better at hiding it.

\- - - -

The planet was burning.

Another day, someplace else on fire. The planet's very atmosphere was supposed to shroud with an almost blue tinted halo, if he remembered right… but not alight red, not reflecting back the smoke and ash and destruction of the wasteland around him.

Maybe once it had been grassland, and people had lived here. Instead? Now it was a warzone, embroiled in conflict, and he was fighting those who must be subdued, not always enemies. Deserters. Gangs. Hits. Sometimes tracking, sometimes not. All turians were perseverant and would never give up in accomplishing a task, but when biotics were involved, it was over far quicker. The Cabal and his cell would do it all, in and out, inciting fear where they had to and displaying might otherwise, all for the Hierarchy.

He had done what was asked of him, as always. Quiet obedience until the call for action sounded and it had been seamless, efficient, and most importantly a success; extraction was within the next rotation, enough time for them to get back to the rendezvous and eat and then debrief, talk about what had gone wrong, what had gone well… but first, back again. Back through scrub and ash, hearing shouts and distant gunfire that elicited little reaction, not their place to intervene, not their thing to do.

Cabals did not serve with the rest of the frontline; too many altercations in the past. Their job here was done. All he had to do now was wait.

Well, be blind now and wait later, ignoring all that they passed currently in far closer proximity than battle taking place some indecipherable distance away. Congregations of people had sprung up here and there along the once road – soldiers bandaging wounds of the populace, civilians doing the same, shared meals out of tableware that had seen better days over just another fire that might have been started intentionally for such a purpose or had been reclaimed. Others were worse for wear, tired refugees who had found their way here and had moved countless times already, with want for nothing but peace.

As expected his kabalim, their commander, did not stop, just another nondescript group of turian soldiers passing through, not long enough for anyone to identify uniforms or inquire as to what they were doing. He knew what he _should_ be doing, forcefully suggested to him once or twice as the better alternative – to _not_ look, to instead look upward to the sky, to beyond, to the next thing they would have to do. But all he could see was dusty, rusted blood red haze, the very planet being consumed by ash and smoke.

How long could he really keep himself doing this? To keep pretending? It had been years since those few weeks, since he had tried harder not to show that intent and hide it. He would like to think he might not have to be this forever, that one day mandatory service would end and he could do something else with his life, but… his biotics might also be his own undoing. He was too good. Too much of an asset. He seemed to have adapted, and as long as he could keep pretending, they would not allow him to leave.

Not that he would make a scene for the sake of it. No. That was not his point. The point was to help others who were in need, even if had had to curb himself of helping _every_ person who might be having some trouble… theoretically. He could not get involved with everyone's business. But there were things that he could involve himself with, simpler things, things that were morally right. When it was not life or death or he was off duty, he was too much of a pleaser, too willing to intervene and make things right, if only because no one could complain about it to his superiors. Small victories.

The march back came to an abrupt halt, Noel almost colliding with the turian in front of him, stopping barely short only out of instinct. He was too far in the back to know why the rest of his squad had stopped, but the reasoning for it became apparent as they deftly altered course eastward with the intention of taking a detour back to rendezvous… so as to avoid walking through a field of corpses.

Noel looked. They were not long dead, a few hours at most. Had they been here before, on the way out? He didn't recall. It was all very much a blur now. Action then less, silence... only more death, wondering what even was the point of them being here doing reconnaissance if they had not made a difference, had not managed to save them—

Not that he believed in sending yourself headlong into the jaws of death in order to save everyone else was a thing to be applauded, as those types never thought about those they left behind, but even this—

He sighed, long and heavy and infuriated, riled that whilst his Cabal at least had had the respect not to saunter through the dead as if they did not matter, that not one of them was thinking to check for survivors. He should follow their lead, be 'professional', be that good little turian who never defied and had no thoughts of their own but to have faith in a system that was evidently failing those it was meant to protect.

He tried. One foot and then another, walking far behind the rest of his squad so to make a show of him being compliant – but he couldn't do it. His pace slowed to a crawl, eyes darting from one body to the next, turian, asari, turian, turian, salarian, asari, asari, turian, none overly scarred or bloody, could easily be mistaken for sleep, looking for signs of _life_ —

And then he heard it.

"Kreiss!" his commander barked at him in the distance. She probably had expected him to stay, used to it from time to time when he slipped, the slight moment and adjustment before he fell back into line and hid it away. Now was a warning. He had stopped entirely, and had strayed too far.

Noel ignored her, sliding down the edge of the slope into the gully and picking his way through bodies, searching for the owner of the voice he had heard, who had coughed and asked for someone, _anyone_ to stop and help.

The asari was not too difficult to find. She had propped herself up against a fallen tree with a shawl around her shoulders, tired and worse for wear, splattered blood long stopped and hungry, alive but nothing left in her for her to move… had he not stopped to listen, had anyone not passed by here, she eventually would have died to exposure, easily missed with the fallen tree obscuring her from the path and people above.

She didn't see him, still softly repeating her words; quietening now that the nearby footfalls had died away, accepting that this would be her fate, the will to fight extinguished and done. Wanting to lay down and die with the rest.

He couldn't allow that, crouching down at her side so that she would see him as a friend, slowly, so as not to alarm her.

The asari blinked, perhaps surprised, her eyes deep and watchful, as if trying to decide if he was real.

"You're safe now," Noel said earnestly with meant reassurance, even if it was a lopsided promise, one that he could not follow through to an end. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know," the asari voiced, gentle and hoarse; again she coughed, wincing at the exertion. "It feels as though it has been forever—"

She trailed off. He looked her over. Admittedly, he didn't know much of asari physiology, but the blood about her clothes was dry, and her limbs seemed to be in all the directions and places. If anything it would be shock that held her here, the only survivor.

"Can you stand?"

She shook her head. "There is nowhere to go," she said, defeated.

He could not take her with him. There was nothing he could do for her; no rations to give that she could eat, perhaps only to bandage her wounds but that was not what she needed. She needed others who could see her through and on her way, and he did not have long. Even now his stalled cell was reorganising themselves, his kabalim marching back double time through her ranks in his direction – soon she would be here and drag him away and that would be that.

He thought quickly. "There's a camp not too far from here," he said. "I can walk with you there, find someone who can help you—"

"Kreiss!" his commander, again, much closer and on the rim of the ditch, less a suggested command and more admonishment at what she had found him trying to get involved in, again.

Noel looked at her – and the asari did too, alerted to the other turian's presence and easily putting two and two together.

"Won't you get into trouble?"

He would. Strife, grief… it was not the first time, even if it had been a while. But it had never been in confrontation, never to disobey his superiors directly… pedantry, as he had, but it was never with direct defiance to orders, to come back to rendezvous, _now_. Slipping away, doing things he ought not to and them catching him after the act was done was different than something not yet fulfilled. His kabalim's intended words were clear. This was his final warning. To do this was to cross a line.

It was not their fault, his cell. It was how turians were supposed to be; for Cabals, isolation was necessary sacrifice to protect the Hieararchy's interests. But they were not all or always hardasses; his teammate looked out for one another. For him. His commander had never made a call just for merit, always putting her squad's safety first, had watched out for him from day one. His squadmates had shown him the ropes, taken literal bullets meant for him that had wound up with a month's recovery time due to having hit a minor organ, but at least it had not been his life had they not intervened.

And yet—

This was who he was.

He had to stop trying to be someone he was not.

Noel exhaled. "It's more important to help people," he said. He stood with his words, rising and gathering strength, no room to be talked out of it, a relief at having said it aloud.

All had heard it, even the rest of his Cabal, still far off. The look on his commander's face was furious, full of ire… but she said nothing. It was too late with him involved: no longer could she pretend _not_ to see. Her own conscience would not let her do it, to pull him away. Indeed she had halted at the base of the ditch she'd climbed down, not wanting to cross that border and involve herself any further than this, that this could be for the Hiearchy to deal with as it would have to be reported and she would not sacrifice herself for him, but for now—

"There's not much of the rotation left. Be back before then."

Her voice was grit and also curt and she was still his kabalim but she was not denying him, and it almost felt like permission with the reminder of the time that was remaining. 

Almost. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking.

It didn't matter. For now, he would help. Whatever came after this, he would deal with.

\- - - -

The aftermath of his choice planetside was about what Noel had expected it to be.

Since having returned to basecamp and his usual ship lodgings – about the point reports had been exchanged, filed, and someone somewhere had muttered _'not again'_ and a great deal of buttons had been pressed and communications made – he had been placed under immediate house arrest. He still had all his possessions save the more lethal ones, locked away in the armoury as was standard protocol, and he was still being fed at regular mealtimes, but it was very apparent. He was in trouble and this time there would be no getting out of it.

He sprawled on the makeshift couch, pieced together one afternoon by him and his bunkmate, not here. He wondered where they were now. Sharing with someone else, probably, whilst he had some good quality time with himself where he was meant to feel guilty, to reconcile his actions and… well, plead forgiveness, come to his senses, and then they would decide his punishment from how he presented himself when they interviewed him.

The usual tactics, really. Not that they would be at all successful. There was no remorse in him. He had done the right thing, as all of them had been afraid to do, to contradict orders.

He didn't know the end of the surviving asari's tale, but he had returned her to the nearest temporary lodging of refugees on their way to larger holdings, far away from the frontline, and stayed long enough to be certain she would be taken care of, that someone who knew asari anatomy could check her over, that a bowl of gruel could be spared and headed her way. They were all too happy to help; even with nothing, they still extended what little they had to give gladly.

He had been reluctant to leave her, time too short to follow things through, knowing he would probably never see her again and though he was gratified at having done the right thing, there was no closure, something he would never have the answer for. She had assured him she would continue to keep going when he'd left, already heartened by being amongst others of her home planet, but…

Noel sighed. It was too impersonal. How he wished he could do something more worthwhile than reconnaissance and fancy mind tricks, something _lasting_. However small. It didn't matter what it was. Just something, that he could make a difference to someone that he actively got to partake in and do, rather than snatched and reprimanded.

He closed his eyes, wondering how long they were planning to leave him here to stir… he might have dozed a little, consciousness ebbing, but he came to practiced attention when his communicator started chirpily beeping.

Two short beeps and then a pause, two more short beeps and a longer one. _Beep beep, beep beep <._ Familiarly rhythmic, and he was in no rush to answer. There was really only one sort of caller that would still be premised anyway. _Beep beep, beep beep. Beep beep—_

He brought up the visualisor. No ID, obviously.

He pulled a face, nose wrinkling a fraction, rolling his eyes. He might as well get this over with.

The line crackled with static as he answered, and no superior said anything as it gradually began to clear – but that was not to say no one spoke.

"Noel Kreiss?"

It was nobody turian, he could tell. The voice was wrong. Neither was it disguised; soft and feminine, a stranger who had happened to patch their way into the system by chance perhaps… had they not also called him by his full name.

He might not be seeing eye to eye with the Hiearchy right now, but he wasn't without basic sense and self preservation. There was no just _happened to_ that they were calling him. It was deliberate. It could invite danger to those around him and that, he did not want.

Noel sat up, very still, muddling words. Stern. "You shouldn't be on this comm line."

The voice was calm. "And yet, I am."

He wasn't at all reassured – but he was curious. Who would want to—who would even succeed in this? Why go to the bother?

And…

Why him?

"Who are you?" he settled with, not quite not accusatory.

There was a weighted pause, and then—

"The Shadow Broker sends her regards."

The name sent a distant chill down his spine, a dread building in the pit of his gut. The Shadow Broker. Of course he'd heard of them – her, as it transpired. Yet that only made it all the more bizarre. There was no distorted voice or masquerade; this was a single person with their real voice, speaking to him personally. The real thing, and not a go between.

A spark of fear twitched. This _was_ the Shadow Broker, and she was speaking to him now.

That was as much time as the voice left him to grapple with its meaning, assuming he would come to the correct conclusion, now moving forward to explain her intent at the very moment the panic might begin to seep in.

"I have an offer for you, Noel Kreiss. If you do not wish to hear it tell me to go, and you shall not hear from me again."

She was good at her craft. Naturally to be the Shadow Broker she probably had the practice. Noel's fear ebbed, and he was left only with her words to ponder. An offer of work… in her employ, presumably. Though she had said she would leave the matter be if he said no, there was a confidence in her words, that she knew him and his desires, knew the situation he was in, in more ways than one. The way she had put it… it was as though she knew that he was dissatisfied, that he would be open to it.

Was he? His present prospects were not all too pleasant. Anything could happen to him now. Dismissal, tying his hands. He might be bound to saboteur forever, and it was not every day a shadow appeared before you with promise of a different sort of life. But the Shadow Broker also dabbled in so many things, and so many aspects. They were not all bad but they were also not all good, shades of grey, the source of many rumours and hushed whispers late at night spread by his cell more real than ghost stories. He might not like what she wanted him to do.

His quarters were impossibly quiet. Something was dripping somewhere – he should probably fix that – interspersed with his own breathing. He was alone, only him and the voice in his ear, a decision to make.

He placed a talon against his chin, thinking. Whatever he chose, he knew he did not have long to decide.

Maybe he should start with meeting her halfway. If she were serious as to her offer, the Shadow Broker would surely indulge it, as he was indulging the idea himself by replying.

"Why me?" he asked, genuinely.

It was apt; to the point. She was the _Shadow Broker_. She had so many at her disposal for every whim. In his mind, she could ask anyone.

There was the most briefest of pauses. "You were kind," she said.

Somehow, that settled him. That whatever she would ask him to do, he would not be against it.

"I'm listening."

"Your task would be to protect something," the voice said, any and all emotion carefully stilled even with her vague specificity. "The most valued of commodities."

It was not much to work with. "Something?"

"Someone," she clarified. Had her voice been softer in that instant? He was trained to notice these sorts of differences, but it was so quick, so briefly said, maybe it was only for emphasis, and he had imagined it. "Taking care of a charge would be your task. They are both young and incredibly important. Their safety and protection is most paramount – they must live, even if you have to lay your own life on the line to do so. That will be your only concern, to be their Guardian. Do you accept, Noel Kreiss?" 

She must have known, to some degree, what his answer to her offer would be, when he had asked why she had approached him… maybe even as far in the past as before she'd patched herself in to communications. She would not have told him this if he was not to say yes.

And he would.

To protect others was what mattered, whatever trouble or danger came in its wake. Even if he didn't know them now he someday would, over time, by performing that role. To protect _someone_ specifically and make a difference to their life… to do something more than just motions, so that someone might one day smile and say thank you… even to witness their happiness and joy would be enough. It might take years, it might take a very long time, but he would do it. 

He barely knew anything, just an instruction and a task, and yet—

There really was no other outcome to this.

"Yes," he said. "I will do it."

"I am gladdened to hear it. You will be pleased to know you have been reassigned."

Noel tilted his head, frowning. That didn't seem right. Was it? "Don't you mean discharged?"

"Recommended for deployment elsewhere," said the voice in his ear. "On paper you still serve the turian military – you still report to a superior. But in truth, both those things are to me. Much of the galaxy is now open to you, should you require it. You need only ask and those doors will open for you."

His omnitool display flashed, running thousands upon thousands of fast moving lines of code and permissions, too much for him to parse right now, particularly as now it was no longer mere words. His name was still there at top, along with his number, that he was a part of the Cabals, but he was no longer attached to his cell. It was real. It was really happening and changing when moments ago he had been dreading a presumed hearing that was now never to be.

"About that," Noel said, glancing at the door, still a barricade to his freedom, transfer or no. "I'm kind of under house arrest."

His omnitool paused long enough in its download to transcribe something else, and across the room he heard a quiet click.

Of all she had done and asked, the unlocked door was almost what he couldn't believe. He stood and made his way over to it, careful and slow, placing his hands against the metal sheet. No resistance. Unlocked by the Shadow Broker's hand.

"Not anymore," she said.

Had she chuckled at the coincidental show of it? Maybe. It didn't matter. Well, with all that she had considered in preparing him in advance for this – she had to have known he had been penned in, she _had_ to, but that also didn't matter now, as he supposed he was to begin right away.

"Where do I go?"

"The Citadel," she said approvingly; he had assumed right. "She will be waiting for you there."

She. That was more than he had known a moment ago, but still little. No age. No identity. Not even mention of her species.

"How will I know it's her?" he asked, moving back into his room as to secure what little of his belongings he wanted and would take with him. Stopping by the armoury for his weaponry also seemed apt. He could probably even secure his most favoured ones, the ones his squad liked to fight over sometimes when training, even if he always had them on real missions.

His now if he took them, he supposed.

The Shadow Broker was quiet, the line pure static, deliberately so, as if she had cut audio on her end. He was patient, packing whilst waiting. She might be talking to someone else, attending to another call that did not involve him… or was it talking to the person he would protect in question?

The static continued to the completion of his his small, over the shoulder pack – not much he brought, not much to take – a holding sound of its own, and he only paused in his actions as it cleared.

"She will find you," the Shadow Broker said.

\- - - -

When Noel left his Cabal's ship by commandeered shuttle – in the middle of the night, as it happened, only a few of his now former squadmates awake, all of them a little remorseful that he was leaving them, but not too much, because he would be someone else's problem now and as far as they aware, only going to be worked all the harder, which was not untrue – he had a scant amount more information to work with.

The Shadow Broker had cut the call not long after so that he could leave and depart, wishing him success. It made sense – she would not want to be overheard by anyone else, their conversation no longer private – but all he had to work with was 'Citadel', his wits, and hoping his words would work and convince those around him that he had known for so long, that if he sounded important enough that he could do it. To his credit both weapons and shuttle had been granted to him, even if those had also already been already cleared.

It was as he entered open space, toward the nearest relay – it had taken him a few hours to get there – that the Shadow Broker had delivered more to him. Just a simple missive in his mailbox, recently emptied and started over. That the transfer of cargo would take place tomorrow, that he should go to the embassies and wait there, and that he would be met by an asari.

It sounded more like transfer of goods mailed out by some underling than sent by the Shadow Broker herself, but that was also likely it. Impersonal, untraceable, something exchanging hands that he would take back to wherever he had come from.

Save there would be no goods, only a person, and the cargo and the mentioned asari would be one and the same.

An asari that was also young, as he remembered. He wondered who she was. What she was like. If she would like him or if that mattered, if what she would need as well as a Guardian would be a companion or friend. That had to be part of it, he thought. If the Shadow Broker had wanted someone ruthless, or even someone who merely was diligent enough to care and see their task through to completion, she could have her pick of the galaxy, regardless of pre-existing connections.

He had idly wondered if his charge would be afraid of him, or fearful of her new circumstances. It was an unknown as to what her personality would be like, but anyone who was young entering a new situation, alone for the first time and entirely trusting in another to keep them safe—

He was fairly confident in his own memories of entering bootcamp that it would not be an easy transition. Maybe he should be better prepared than just presenting himself and following through with immediate orders. Perhaps he should get her something; afterall, this was the Citadel, and the options for that were endless.

Not that he might have the time for that… he had to find where she might be first, as well as navigate his way through wards, and there were a _lot_ of embassies, even if he had the impression he just had to pick one and she would locate him anyway. As for the Citadel itself… it would be bursting with people, people entirely unaware as to the heartache and pressures of outside it, of living with nothing and surviving with less – or if they did know those things, the Citadel itself was distraction, a revelry of perceived peace and pleasure before the reality of their lives beyond it returned. It would be easy to see. There were plenty of military types there, of all species. Even if they weren't dressed in their respective attire he would be able to tell. It was his job to get a read on people, and sometimes an instant would be all the time he had.

He wandered somewhat aimlessly after docking in the early hours of the Citadel's night cycle, all the lights in the corridors and presidium turned low and humming, most places emptying of those intoxicated in search of their beds. Now was not the time to investigate. He knew roughly where to go to locate embassies; Noel had been to the Citadel before, a few times. He hadn't really enjoyed it – too many people for him, too much alcohol. Maybe that did make him the typical stick-in-the-mud turian after all, which he had been accused of once or twice, but he simply liked to keep his wits about him and his mind clear. This time he also had the added purpose not to involve himself in those sorts of things. 

He walked here and there, waited, used to doing nothing for hours at a time whilst staying alert and watchful. She could be here at any time, could appear from anywhere, and he would have to be ready when she did.

Admittedly he had not only watched, having helped a few humans asking for directions (what was if with humans and thinking every turian on the Citadel was C-Sec?) and intervening with a particularly pushy reporter who was fishing for news at the expense of making anyone who crossed her path her target. That had particularly bothered him, for no matter how much the human girl had refused the reporter had kept at it, and everyone about them had ogled, keen for overheard gossip and stories and not one of them thought to intervene, which was exactly why he had. 

Sometimes it helped to have the height advantage over humans, and the practice of seeming threatening on first glance, for the reporter had quickly backed off, her camera accusingly glaring back into his eyes – he'd held that miniature war, eyes versus eye, narrowing his own unblinking and unyielding until had won, smirking as they left.

It really was good to help people, better still that no one would get on his case about it. The right thing to do: and he was so much freer now to do it, even if his priority would be for only one.

The girl, Serah, had also managed to resolve his dilemma of a gift with something that, even after she had departed, he was not so certain he should have taken. She had agreed to it, insisted… but the moogle doll was far too tattered and patched up to be anything but well loved, time the highest form of sentiment, yet all the same she had gifted it to the young asari he was to be meet – leaving behind something she had decided she could do without in her new life. 

There were a lot of new lives unfolding that day, he thought solemnly to himself, pensive. For all he was used to the art of waiting, he so very rarely had nothing to do or uncertain plans for after it ended, and though the day was now beginning to wane somewhat and he doubted there was much time left before his charge arrived, he was beginning to grow restless again, which was how he had stumbled upon Serah in the first place.

It was as he was about to move, maybe for another sweep of the presidium and finding himself in someone else's business, that Noel realised he was being watched.

Whoever had been watching him had been doing so for a while. He had been leant forward, his elbows perched against his knees, but as he noted the presence he righted himself, slowly, so that whoever it was would not be alerted to the fact that he was now aware of them. It was more… a feeling that he was being watched, gut instinct over real _proof_ , but that very rarely led him wrong.

His eyes swivelled, scouring the room – people occupied, doing things, waiting or snoozing, talking, no one looking at him – and then came to a certain stop, for she was looking right back at him.

An asari, not full grown. Older than he was by virtue of lifespan but younger in mind, or was that supposition? She seemed far older than her features suggested, her eyes vivid and sharp and seeing _everything_ , her lingering gaze highlighted by the focal headdress perched atop her brow, carrying naught but the clothes on her back and a singular picked flower in her hand wilted downwards toward the ground.

She was stood in the middle of the concourse, not the most subtle or discreet of places, regarding him from her fair distance... waiting for him to realise or take heed, or perhaps cataloguing for herself that he was the one she was looking for.

Only at his attention did the asari approach. One step and then another, slow, boots oversized for her feet. No one had run into her whilst she had stood there unmoving, and even now they continually gave her a wide berth as she walked the line toward him… until she was stood at his side and Noel realised he had been holding his breath the whole time as she blinked, and he at last exhaled, starved of air.

"I have been waiting for you, Noel Kreiss."

Her words were quiet, barely more than a whisper, but his hearing buzzed, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder and then—

Nothing. Gone. Just a noisy meeting place outside an embassy, people coming and going and talking over one another, life continuing on as it always had.

He sat straighter. He wondered if he should stand, although he would tower over her, and this felt better, more equal, more personal a greeting. The Shadow Broker had instructed him with protection, but there were aspects of guardianship that he felt he could, would, figure out for himself. It wasn't decided yet, and it would also not all be decided now, but first impressions would always be a starting point.

And he would like to be seen as friend, over aloof and above her. That she could talk to him – so he had best say something, anything at all.

Asking her name felt too forward – perhaps she did not want to say, not here. She had not offered it, had only identified him so that he would know she was the one. The doll felt too early. He glanced downward to her hand, and the flower.

He didn't recognise it, not that he was in the habit of spending time with flowers. The petals were a bluish purple, a nice another sort of colour and shape if you liked that sort of thing, pleasing enough to look at even if you didn't.

"Is that from your home?"

She shook her head, though her eyes did not leave him. "No. It is… a sylleblossom. A favoured flower. Someone loved them. They were once used as a parting gift for a heart that never wavered and never gave in."

Noel tilted his head. Not the answer he had expected, but still… curious that her response had bent that way, to something he was not so sure he understood. It was not a riddle and she was not speaking in tongues, but it still felt like a mystery even she had not quite solved. At the very least, it was a slight window into who she was, and intriguing.

"Is it yours? Your favourite flower, I mean."

The asari glanced downward, briefly, lifting the flower upward, more into the light, colours catching. It was far prettier than he had first given it credit for… somehow still very vibrant and alive despite having been picked some time before.

"I don't know…" she regarded it, twirling the stem slightly between her fingers. "But I have always liked them."

"Hmm. Perhaps it is your favourite, then. Liking it sounds close enough to a favourite to me."

"Perhaps it is," she agreed, and there was a hint of a smile there, that she had concluded something as until then unknown, and she was pleased by it. She spun it delicately once more and then held it out to him in offering. "This one is for you."

He blinked back at her, surprised. Well, there _was_ to be an exchange of goods as was on written instructions embedded in his omnitool… but he had not expected a gift, for that was what it actually was.

Regardless, he did not hesitate, his more spindly digits retrieving the flower and stem from her, as precise and with as little pressure as he could manage. It seemed less, now that he had hold of it. Like it was dying, and would wither away all too soon.

His charge had noticed, her head lilting as she frowned.

"I guess it won't last for long for much longer," he said, with a gentle sigh. Even as it faded, it was still beautiful. "But thank you."

"Flower pressing," she interrupted, suddenly. "We can do that, when we leave – and then it will last. I will teach you how. And for now, I can—" she reached out, two fingers overlapping exposed stem, her eyes narrowing slightly with a mild grimace as she focused. Noel recognised the familiar aftermath of recent biotic use, the slight purple sheen about her hand and his; when she pulled away, the sylleblossom was whole again, freshly picked. If it had been so the whole time she had been travelling here… had she done that, given it life, over and over? He would have surely sensed a trace if she had. Maybe it was a subconscious thing she did not have to think about, when it was in her hand. 

Was that even possible? Maybe. Asari always had biotics, and no matter the might of Cabals, they would always be secondary placed against an asari of any standing. One Huntress could easily wipe the floor with them. But the girl was not that, not a warrior or a fighter, but… a weapon? Leverage? Perhaps that was why the Shadow Broker wished for her to be guarded. 

It seemed almost too simple a reason. 

The asari stepped back from him, satisfied that the flower would survive. "We can press it later," she said. "I think I know how to do it. I would like for us both to be able to see it again." Her posture righted as she looked him in the eye once again, not waiting for an answer or agreement as she continued on. "What you saw was a memory. But she is fine now, and safe. She thanks you."

Truthfully he had been about to look away, partly focused on retrieving the moogle doll to give her in return, now seeming the best time, but as she held his gaze he found he could not, slowing.

And what she had _said—_ it took him a moment to process, to register, for confusion to flicker across his features.

What did she… mean by that?

"What?"

It was not eloquent, but it was blunt. Her concentration wavered, and she broke eye contact first, opening her mouth and closing it again, about to say something else but now… lost. She blinked, looking back at him quizzically. "Nevermind. Can we sit here, for a while?"

She indicated the seat next to him, as of yet unoccupied, much like the rest of the row. The embassies were more steadily emptying than filling up again now, being evening.

"Of course," he said. Whatever she needed. Right now she did not need him to ponder upon strange sentiments, even if it had invoked a sense of relief that he could not currently align with a cause. But they could wait here as she wished, for as long as was necessary and she was safe. They could not stay overlong, but enough. Time could still be afforded, he felt. It was not like he was subject to restrictions, given that he could go back to his shuttle whenever he wanted, and equally they could depart at any time, a mixture of being able to get what he wanted at a mere word now as well as prior existing military clearance. 

The asari nodded, gratified, gracefully perching herself on the edge of the metal and teetering from side to side, her eyes opening and closing rapidly, as if she were suddenly extremely tired. She slumped against him in lieu of her actual seat and Noel braced against her, a now empty hand on her shoulder in concern.

"It'll pass," she said quietly. She breathed deeply. In, out. Inhale, exhale – he found himself trying to match the rhythm of her breaths, even if that was not quite possible, given, well. Different species, different hearts. And even with her assurance he did not let her shoulder free until she sat upright again, a better indicator that she was recovered than him trying to riddle out physiology he wasn't used to, but was rapidly beginning to think he probably should pick out a few books about off the extranet. So much for never using it.

"Better?"

She mumbled back something. A yes maybe. The rest of her act was equally unconvincing as she continued to sway, but at least she seemed able to keep her eyes open again.

Was it what she had done to the flower that had caused it? Or something else? It was not the location to ask, maybe not even his place at all. She seemed to want to move on from it, to not be a bother, and guiltily, there was not much he could do right now if he did not know, other than stay at her side...

He could provide distraction, at least. Once he was certain she would not collapse on him again, Noel swivelled in his seat, finally retrieving the now somewhat crumpled moogle doll – really it added to its tattered, well loved charm, even as he attempted to smooth the worn fabric – enclosing his talons around its bulk.

"I have something for you, too."

She looked at him with a light smile, though her face was one of pain. "You do?"

He almost didn't follow through, hesitating at that look, _hating_ it deeply despite only knowing her for so short a time – but, if Serah was right, this would allay some other things she was going through, maybe even be an unintended comfort, so…

He held it out to her. Her eyes widened as she inspected it, looking it over first, then raising a hand and tentatively tugging on one of its small arms, and flicking its pom with her forefinger, which made her smile properly, amused.

"He's very cute," she said with the tiniest, faintest of laughs. "Thank you, Noel."

The laugh did more than feeling himself exhale with relief – that Serah had been right, and also that she seemed somewhat recovered now – but that the young asari was making a particular case for herself in terms of attachment, to _wanting_ to protect her, not just because he had been employed or agreed to do it. It was so natural, and she was so kind, kind as he was, save that his exterior was rougher and harsher, that he had been trained to be a saboteur and exploit and see the worst in people, and she deserved only goodness– 

And, most sincerely, he wanted her to live and be happy.

It was a strange conundrum to feel so quickly, but it was true. He didn't even know her name, yet she had succeeded in endearing him entirely.

As he was thinking, she had taken the moogle from him, settling the plump not pig, not cat in her lap, hands loosely laced around its middle, looking down at it fondly. 

"His name… is Mog, isn't it?"

It was framed like a question, but she wasn't looking for any answer. And neither was it a lucky guess – somehow she knew it to be true, did not need him to clarify.

"It is," he said all the same. "How do you know that?"

She looked at him then, considering. He had meant it for conversation, casually said as the question slipped out and he considered whether he should retract it, say she didn't have to answer, but she was mulling it over seriously. 

"I see things," she said after a moment, clutching the moogle tighter to herself. "I remember things that have happened. Usually to me… but sometimes others, as well."

Truthfully, he had not expected much of an answer, and not one so strange and perhaps impossible – eidetic memory was a thing, he was fairly sure he'd be taught in bootcamp that some species could actually relive memories, so it wasn't outside of possibility, and yet… to others? And her biotic prowess? Certainly unusual. Not that he didn't believe what she had said: it had to be the truth. Why wouldn't it be? She gained nothing by lying to him.

Noel glanced around – nobody was looking or observing them, not that that meant they were safe. He felt he could ask a little more, as she had not denied him. "Like you remember it perfectly?"

She shook her head. "No. Like I'm there. It comes with being part drell… I relive each and every one of my memories. And—"

She paused, her voice extremely quiet, barely heard.

"Sometimes I see glimpses of the future. I generally don't stay in one place long enough for people to notice."

He felt a chill race down his spine as she said it. 

"What happens when people notice?"

He was equally quiet. She blinked down once more at the moogle, and then looked up at him, her expression unknowable but serious and sad – as if to say that he already knew the answer to that.

He did. The future – the future was a highly prized commodity. People would fight over that. War for that. Kill for that. Set the galaxy on fire for that if they knew what tomorrow would bring, of success and fortune and failure, of what might knock them down, and they would lock up the one who could provide that, their presumed idol and force her to see, over and over, what was in store for them.

To be anywhere with her was a danger if it were true… but it was not her he feared, more those potential fates. He shuddered, rolling his shoulders to hide it, thinking.

"Should you be telling me this?"

She smiled, fractionally. "She said it was okay to tell you. And if you’re going to protect me… I think you should know."

"She?" 

"My mother," she said, her attentions back to the moogle, nothing else to add, waiting for him to figure out what that meant.

Her mother—

And the Shadow Broker.

Both of them. 

And—

One and the same.

"Ah," Noel said, shaking his head as he privately smiled to himself at how long it had taken him to piece that together, at last realising the gravitas of the task that had been entrusted to him and why, all the potential complications and ways this might and would end, that him knowing this could definitely become later leverage, and yet—

"She's sorry she didn't tell you," the young asari said, interrupting his thoughts.

"I'm not angry," he said, sighing. "I get it. The galaxy isn't always the most friendliest of places. Thank you for telling me – really. But we probably shouldn't be staying here much longer. Not safe."

"Yes," she agreed. "We can talk more once we leave. I'm ready to go when you are," she said, standing to prove it, her arms wrapped around Mog's middle as she faced away from him – and then turned back, something else occurring to her that she had quite forgotten in her divulgence of things, in deciding for herself that he would be the one she wanted to protect her.

Noel Kreiss. He would do it for as long as he were able. Longer, even. The galaxy would have need of him and many others, someday soon. 

And there was one more thing he ought to know, if he were to stay at her side.

"My name is Yeul," she said with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, at last."

Noel stood, smiling fractionally in return – so much taller than her, an odd duo to be sure, but he did not care.

There was one certainty he had, if no other.

He was Yeul's Guardian now.

And he would watch over her, no matter what came.

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify, Etro is the Shadow Broker in this AU if the tags haven't given this away already :') it's a perfect thing for her to be honestly.
> 
> Sylleblooms are sylleblooms because I have plans for daisies later, and they're already Earth flowers, sylleblooms could be from anywhere and let me bring elements of what was once Fabula Nova Crystallis into this, ok


End file.
